Of The Holmes Family title pending
by Takada Saiko
Summary: I'm terrible at titles... bah... Anyway, RussellHolmes fic. Got to love them. Set just after MRoW and they're breaking the news to Watson and Mycroft, when there turns out to be unexpected company... I own nothing. R
1. Default Chapter

A/N: Obviously, if you've read "Midnight Chats" this is off from that as Russell knew very little about Sherlock Holmes' family aside from Mycroft in that story, and if this happened before that, it would make no sense, but ah well… still the same general idea of his family life that was first sparked when I watched "Young Sherlock Holmes" some years ago. Onward!

* * *

The day was only slightly gloomy when I placed the last of my clothing that I intended to take with me into the bag and swung it over my shoulder. It had been a week since the closing of the our case. The one in which I had accepted my long time friend and partner's proposal. I'd taken very little time to reflect on it, and this was the first moment of silence, as I waited to go to the train station and meet Holmes. I had not spoken about it to a soul about it, secretly feeling as if I mentioned it, I might wake to find it all some cruel dream. That, and I had made myself a silent promise that Uncle John and Mycroft should be two of the first to know. I was sure Holmes had told Mrs. Hudson, but one could never be sure. The wonderful lady would be ecstatic.

"I'm just being foolish," I mumbled to myself.

"Are you now?"

I whirled around to see Holmes sitting in a chair in the corner of the room, looking quite comfortable with his long legs stretched out. "What on earth are you doing here?" I demanded, promising myself I would not blush at being caught speaking with myself aloud. "I thought we were going to - When did you come in?" Had I really been that absorbed in my thoughts.

"Oh, not five minutes ago," he answered as he pulled his pipe and tobacco from his coat pocket.

I shook my head with a smile on my face. "I was just about to be on my way."

"As well you should be. We'll be late if you don't."

I gave him a questioning glance as I looked down at the wrist watch I had bought. "But we still have a good forty-five minutes before the train leaves." And, I neglected to say, another twenty minutes before he was even supposed to be there.

He smirked slightly and motioned for me to check the sound of it. I lifted it up to my ear and frowned as the ticking that should have sounded did not. He held a pocket watch before me and I frowned even deeper. "Well let's go then."

---------------

"You haven't said a word to either of them?" I asked as we made our way from the train station to Mycroft's rooms, where we intended to meet both Holmes' brother and Uncle John.

"I'd wager Mycroft knows something is going on, even if he is not quite sure of what, though I wouldn't put it past him to know exactly what."

I chuckled at this. "Yes, I would imagine that. And dear Uncle John? I'd venture to say that he is in the dark."

It was Holmes' turn to chuckle lightly as we made the corner onto the street where we saw Mycroft's rooms. I was shaking my head in good humour the rest of the way to it.

"Holmes! Mary!"

We turned to see Uncle John just making his way up the walk, his eyes positively twinkling in delight. It had been some time since we had seen him. He shook Holmes' hand and embraced me quickly, planting a light kiss on my cheek as he did so and then we were up to see the elder of the Holmes' brothers.

Mycroft met us nearly at the door, surprising me with his burst of energy. A rarity indeed. He welcomed both Uncle John and I before reaching over for his brother and muttering something in his ear. Holmes went white.

"What?" Holmes managed, his voice barely seeming to function correctly.

"Just as I said. Ah, Mary, I'm sure Sherlock has spoken little of our family. He tends not to often, so this is a pleasure indeed."

I had to admit that I was slightly lost in it all. "Excuse me?"

"Apparently," Holmes said through clenched teeth, not bothering to hide his irritation, "Mycroft's and my father has come for a brief stay. I take it she is with him." The last was directed at Mycroft.

"Yes. Sherlock, please try to be pleasant. I know your thoughts on the matter - I assure you mine are simply unspoken - but you must try to be civil. I fear he will not be with us much longer."

I saw Holmes' eyes harden slightly and his entire posture was that of one know he would not enjoy the time he would spend here, but would force himself through it for a sense of duty to family.

In the lingering silence that followed Mycroft's request, Uncle John voiced the thoughts that ran through my head. "I had no idea that your father is alive, Holmes. You'd never mentioned him."

"For good reason," Holmes mumbled under his breath. "You say he's in poor health, Mycroft?"

"He was eighty-nine this past year, Sherlock."

"Yes… And how old is she this year?"

I raised an eyebrow at the crisp tone of his voice and wondered, though only to myself, who the elusive "she" that he was referring to truly was.

"It's not kind to ask a lady's age, Sherlock," a voice entered the room. I turned my eyes to the woman who had entered. She was small (I was sure I would tower over her if she should approach) and dainty. Her dark green eyes flashed with an almost seductive fashion and she looked as if she were pouting. She was not Holmes' mother, I could tell, for she couldn't be much older than he was. Though I was sure that she looked younger than her actual age.

"Hello, Adeline," Holmes greeted her sharply.

She smiled and approached him, extending her hand to him as he brought it up in the traditional manner, but not to his lips. Certainly she caught the small action, but said nothing. "You haven't introduced me to your guests, dear."

He bristled at this and made no trouble at hiding it. "Dr. John Watson, a long time friend of mine and Miss Mary Russell who helps me on most of my current cases."

"Ah? John Watson that rights those lovely stories that show in the Strand? How lovely! And Miss Russell, what a pretty young lady."

I thanked her quietly.

"Well," Mycroft interrupted the none too pleasant pleasantries, "perhaps we should move to the sitting room." And so we did.

* * *

A/N: Well, there's the first chapter. It probably won't be too awful long. I have it written out my theory on Sherlock Holmes' general past and basically when he was born and all. I've taken part of it from LRK's "The Beekeeper's Apprentice" in which I found Holmes saying he was 54 years old in 1915. I had to rework the numbers that I had worked for my previous fic, but that was all right. In other words, in "The Case of the Haunted Room", it was really supposed to be about 1874 instead of 1872 and he was born in 1861 instead of '59. I was only off by a little, thinking him perhaps 56 instead of 54 in BKA, but all in all I'm more pleased that he is younger than I first thought b/c it's difficult to think of Holmes aging... He's been immortalized. Anyway, Hope everyone enjoyed. If you'd like me to post my dates up to have a general idea (personally, I like to have things like that written out nice and neatly in front of me, but some people don't care) feel free to tell me.

Also, as a final note as just a question getting people's ideas, and you might find me foolish for asking, but ah well. Does anyone believe the forwards that LRK writes in the beginning of her Mary Russell series about recieving a trunk from Mary Russell? Just curious if anyone believes it and the reasons for believing it. I've skimmed over (so quickly it shouldn't be called skimming) the first page or two of one of her other books and it looked nothing like the style of the Mary Russell series... Just an observation.

Please R&R. I'm an addict to reviews, though mine is a 100 per-cent sollution instead of 7 per-cent. :)


	2. II

II

* * *

A/N: The basic idea of what happened between Siger and Violet Holmes (names taken from William Baring-Gould's theory on Holmes)is derived from the movie Young Sherlock Holmes. I get my theories onHolmes from veriety of things. Collect the data and deduce :)

* * *

Siger Holmes was the man who fathered both Holmes brothers and apparently the husband of the mysterious Adeline woman that my husband-to-be seemed to despise with an intensity I was not sure I had seen. I was sure of several things about Adeline Holmes: First, she was, as I had said, not Holmes' nor Mycroft's actual mother. Not only did her age play a part in this knowledge, but also that she was not the woman in the picture at Holmes' home that I had spoken of when first analyzing him those long six years ago. Second was that she had not been of a well-to-do family before she married Siger Holmes, though she did seem quite confident in herself. Thirdly was blatantly obvious to anyone with half a brain cell: she and Sherlock Holmes had something in their past that caused the coldness between them, though what it was I was not sure about.

Siger Holmes, unlike his younger wife, looked his age. I was sure that Holmes had received his youthful appearance from his mother, whom I deduced to be long since dead. He was drooping in his old wheel chair and he hardly looked as if he might be able to stand. It was in his eyes that I caught the family resemblance. Those sharp grey eyes that were not only seeing, but observing. That, at first glance, was the only resemblance between Sherlock Holmes and his elderly father that I saw.

Introductions were made and Uncle John was quite eager to shake hands with the man that had never been mentioned. Siger Holmes looked at me, blinked once and then again, as if he were worried his eyes were not focused well on me. "It's a pleasure," I said as I gripped his hand.

"Mary Russell, you said?"

"Yes."

He looked at me, eyes searching for something I was sure. A strange smile crossed his face. "So Sherlock has finally, after all this time, found himself someone to match."

I stood speechless. Dumbfounded, really.

He chuckled at my expression. "And here I said just yesterday, didn't I Adeline, that Sherlock would be a bachelor for the rest of his days like Mycroft."

"If you don't mind-" Holmes cut in, his voice bordering on anger, but dripped only with irritation.

"Ah, yes, Sherlock. I'm sure you would like to announce all that yourself. A much younger girl, isn't she."

Holmes straitened his shoulders at this, his entire posture that of someone who might become defensive.

"Ah Holmes! Is this true?" Uncle John asked, sounding positively delighted.

I cleared my throat and mumbled towards Holmes, "Well that didn't go as planned."

Adeline walked towards us. "How wonderful, Sherlock! It's simply wonderful. Mary – you certainly won't mind me calling you Mary, will you – I'm so very pleased for you! I've always wanted a daughter…"

"She will not be your daughter," Holmes growled before I had a chance to respond. "Just as I was never your son."

"Sherlock…" Siger Holmes began, seeming upset over his son's low tones.

"Don't even begin with it all… Should I have known you were here, Russell and I would have chosen another time to visit. As it is, I do not want to regret what I say to my brothers' guests. Good day." He turned to Mycroft. "Yes, Russell and I are to be married, to confirm his theory, and that was the purpose of this visit."

"Perhaps you can come by the Club later."

"Thank you."

I looked at Holmes – or rather his back as he turned for the door – and then to Uncle John and finally to Siger and Adeline. Uncle John and I nodded once to each other and excused ourselves. I ran to catch up with Holmes' long stride.

"What the hell was that?" I demanded, irritation and an illogical anger at being left in the dark bubbling up to the surface.

He turned to me. "Watson, a moment if you please," he said crisply.

Uncle John nodded, unruffled, and left Holmes and me standing on the street corner. He motioned for me to follow and we ducked into one of his many bolt-holes. I watched as he turned on the light and sat himself down. "That, was my family."

"Obviously."

"You might want to narrow down your inquiries if you are to have any questions answered."

I snorted, to which he replied, as he did so often, how unbecoming it was. "Fine then," I grumbled. "Who is Adeline?"

"She and the man in there that I am still forced to call 'father' killed my mother," he answered as if it were simply a fact from a case.

I felt my eyes grow wide. "Murdered her?"

"No… Well, perhaps, but not technically of course."

"Holmes, you're not coming in clear. The full story would be helpful."

He nodded, relenting far to easily for him, and settled back for what appeared to be a long story. He lit his pipe as I took a seat on the floor – waving off his offer of the chair he had taken, I was perfectly capable of sitting my self on the floor – and slouched, stretching his long legs out.

"I've told you bits and pieces of my childhood, over the years, and you deduced some when we met. My father moved my mother and I around quite a bit. Mycroft, being seven years my senior, was in school a good portion of my young childhood. Our eldest brother, Sherrinford, was more like a distant cousin than a brother, as I saw him only on very rare occasions. Perhaps every four or so Christmases. He and I were, needlessly to say, not close.

"I believe I have told you I was thirteen when we settled in London and I began attending an all-boys school until I reached an age I might attend University. I was thirteen then.

"Mother fell ill just before my fifteenth birthday and I returned home from school as much as often as possible."

"You and your mother were close," I said before I meant to.

Holmes smiled ever so slightly. "Yes. Father made it clear that my aspiration to be a convulsive detective was foolishness. Mother encouraged it." He waved his hand, as if to dismiss that as not important, even if it was.

"Father brought in a sick nurse for my mother by Christmas that year. She'd been in bed nearly since that summer, and he was 'growing sickly caring for such a stubborn woman,' as he put it.

"Adeline Anderson was twenty when she entered our household as a nurse to help my mother. I must admit, while my mother was brilliant and had an eye for the smallest details, she often missed flaws in personality. I never decided whether it was that she blinded herself to it or if it was a natural blindness. Either way, she saw only the best. She adored Miss Anderson.

"I returned home from school early that Christmas, so that I might check in on my mother. Father had specifically told me that I shouldn't rush home, she was perfectly cared for my Miss Anderson and she would be happier if she knew I was attentive to my studies. I rarely listened to my father's instructions.

"Mycroft had not returned home yet, and Sherrinford was not set to come in until the new year. I fully expected to be alone. That is, until I heard someone in my father's study.

"We had never had an burglary at our home, but of course I did not write that off. I assumed – always a mistake, of course, but I was only just shy of sixteen – that Miss Anderson was in with my mother. She was, after all, her nurse. Father should have been out at this hour of the day. I stepped into the study, fully intent on seeing a man steeling our things." Holmes averted his eyes at this point, but then they came back to hold mine even stronger than before. "I wish that had been all it was. Father was home. As was Miss Anderson."

"My word…" I breathed. "She and your father… Were they…?"

He nodded, a tight smile appearing on his lips. "I remember yelling at him, in a burst of emotion Watson would not believe. I believe it was something to the effect of, 'She's not even dead yet.'

"My father gathered himself as best he could. At that point, he was much taller than I was and he had a tendency to use that against a person. We screamed a bit more, which is more than I had ever done. While it was known that Father and I did not agree and he rarely supported me, if ever, we never voiced it. I was not, obviously, going to stand aside."

"Did your mother find out?" I asked quietly.

"The screams brought her in. She was not a dull witted woman, mind you. She saw Miss Anderson with a sleeve down from her shoulder and her hair rumpled and saw Father with his tie off and shirt unbuttoned… She was not dull witted. If you were to be naïve, Russell, she would have been a bit like you." I took it as a silent compliment. "'I knew there was something wrong,' she said, and told us that she would be in her room. She had all but recovered, they had said. She died a week later."

I watched Holmes as he relit his pipe and fiddled with it a bit, his last words hanging in the air. I could piece together the rest, obviously. Miss Adeline Anderson had married the widower Siger Holmes – I should say soon after, rather than some time – and tried to take Holmes' mother's place. It did explain a bit for his distrust of the opposite sex.

"We should be getting back," Holmes said suddenly, breaking my train of thought. "Watson, I can assure you, is waiting where we left him."

I knew he was right. I unfolded myself from where I had sat and allowed him to help me up. "Holmes."

He turned to me from where he was about to duck out of the bolt-hole. "Yes?"

I stepped forward and wrapped my arms around him, kissing him like I had on the dock. When we pulled away, he smiled at me. "Certainly that wouldn't have been because you're getting all sentimental over a long-passed story, would it, Russell?"

I grinned at him. "Of course not."

* * *

A/N: My eyes are now dead… My main computer has been on a slow death the last couple of weeks and I've been pulling files from it today so that I can cure it. (hopefully it won't have the same type of nearly-cure and then sudden death that Violet Holmes had… :( That's sad…) Anyway, my eyes are dead, but here's the next chapter. It's got one short little bit to wrap up in the next one, I believe. Poor Watson… standing out in the cold.

BlackMoon13: I have a loyal fan! Wow! Makes me feel special :) I was afraid no one would read my work on the Sherlock Holmes fics. Yay! Hope you enjoyed this chapter.

Ophilia Russell: I love your name, just thought I'd let you know! Ophilia from Hamlet (don't know if that's where you got the name) is an awesome character. I absolutely adore her, even though she goes crazy, but that's her best feature… anyway, back to the subject at hand (I'm not ADD… oh look! A butterfly! Lol) Glad you liked it! What interviews did you read? Do you remember? I'd like to look into them. Me having a frighteningly active imagination, I'm leaning towards believing the forwards (and I don't have the excuse of being twelve… that was a loooooong time ago)

Dixielou: Yes, I had heard of it, thank you, but at the moment I'm trying to fix my main computer and I can barely keep up with the PotC listing I'm on… but I might look into it at a later time. Who knows? When life slows down… Nah… before that or it'll never get done. Lol. Thanks :)

A/N2: Also, I might be writing a more detailed description of the whole event Holmes described and posting it separately b/c I have a habit of loving detail in those type things, and I didn't want to add it into this story. So keep your eyes opened for that, if you'd like to.

TS


	3. epilogue

Epilogue

* * *

Uncle John was, in fact, right where we had left him, save for the fact that he'd moved to lean against the building a bit. He and I returned to Mycroft's rooms, though Holmes declined to enter at that time. He sent word to his brother via us that they should meet an other time to "discuss what we had come to discuss." It's funny to think about at times how casually he treated the loss of his sixty-years ofbachelor hood.

I did not stay long, but I did take a moment to apologize for our abrupt exit some hour and a half earlier and thank all of them for their understanding and their congratulations. Adeline leaned forward and embraced me quickly, kissing my cheek. I let her, for some reason, but to this day I do not know why.

While we solved no case that night and saved no life from a murderous fiend, I found just as heavy of a let down after it was over. Siger and Adeline did not attend the wedding and I only saw Adeline once more: Siger Holmes' funeral perhaps a year later, in which Holmes, to my knowledge,did not attend. Though it was an emotionally stainingnight – heaven knows neither of us would show it outwardly – I would not have given it up for the world ten times over. To know a bit more about the Holmes family is to draw just a bit closer to the man I now call husband.

* * *

A/N: Sorry the epilogue wasn't any longer, but I just wanted to wrap it up

Ophelia Russell: Sorry to kill you with suspence. I'm glad that I've gotten Holmes and Russell so in character. That makes me happy :) I always strive to keep everyone in character

Neoholmesz: I'm glad you loved the first two chapters and hopefully you liked the epilogue too! Yes! Read Russell/Holmes stories! They are like a wonderful drug! (no need for a seven-percent solution here, people, go all the way with one hundred-percent Holmes and Russell!) :P Yes, I love that movie too. I bought it some years ago (before it came out on DVD, I believe... wow, that seems like so long ago, but I'm not even sure DVDs were popular when I bought it, much less something I could have bought.... Makes me feel old :( Oh well lol :)

Black Moon 13: Ah yay! I made someone's day! That makes me happy! Yes, poor Holmes... I do adore him and you know there has to be SOMETHING in his past to cause him to distrust women, and so this is just an idea of what that might have been. (not that we're all together trustworthy 24/7) Hehe :)

Hermione Holmes: That someone thinks I followed King's style is really cool, because to me her style in the Mary Russell series is one of the best I've ever read. So thanks very much! Yes, about the parallel, I thought that might make a nice twist. :)

Thanks all.

TS


End file.
